Cooties
by Ellislash
Summary: The boys' immature behavior endangers them all, but Rochelle's attempt at discipline backfires. NxE, coarse language. I don't own anything Valve does.


Nick and Ellis were a constant source of both frustration and entertainment for Rochelle. In a lot of ways they were just like her sister's kids, Joey and Sam; the older one tried and failed to act like a grown-up while the younger one reliably drove him insane. The big difference, of course, was that these alleged "adults" were armed to the teeth and full of testosterone. That, and the whole zombie apocalypse situation, changed things.

Twice in the last three days, she'd had to stop Ellis from pouring bile jars down the back of Nick's suit. She assumed the attempts were revenge for Nick's constant verbal abuse, a habit she'd been unable to curb in the older man. The two of them bickered like brothers, nonstop, despite their mutual interest in survival. Rochelle had long since lost track of how many times she and Coach had reminded them to focus on getting to the next safe house alive. Though the sibling-rivalry behavior was often very amusing (the sight of Nick sticking his tongue out at Ellis still made her laugh), it could also become dangerous. Occasionally they'd come close to blows, requiring physical intervention, or sometimes one would refuse to give the other a helping hand during battle.

This morning was the last straw on Rochelle's back. Coach had had to grab Nick by the collar to keep him from extinguishing a cigarette butt on Ellis' neck. He wasn't even supposed to _have_ cigarettes anymore, not since they'd discovered that the tobacco smoke attracted special infected. Rochelle confiscated the pack and threw it in the river, but didn't feel like searching the conman for his other hidden treasures. She knew Nick had the hots for her, and refused to encourage him.

She made Ellis do it instead.

"We don't have time for this shit," Coach warned. "If he gets himself dragged off by a smoker, that's his own problem." Rochelle smiled evilly.

"Let's have a little fun for once, Coach," she muttered slyly. "They've been like kids on a road trip for days, all 'I'm not touching you!' from the backseat. This way, they'll know I'm ready to turn the car around." She chuckled, watching them eye each other with distaste. "Look how uncomfortable they are!"

"Ellis, unless I am dying in the mud, you are _not_ touching me," Nick snapped. The younger man stood with his arms crossed.

"Hell, I don't _wanna_ and I ain't _gonna_, so don't get yer panties inna knot. You can goddamn well _stay _in the mud, for all I care! What kinda teammate tries ta _burn_-"

"Boys? Don't make me force you," Rochelle threatened, raising her AK. "You _cause_ trouble, you _get in_ trouble. Convince me there aren't any more cigarettes. Now." Her usually gentle voice was hard, but she had a wide grin on her face.

The men stared at her in disbelief. Ellis was speechless. Nick's eyes glittered angrily.

"You're _enjoying_ this, aren't you? Want to see us get all touchy-feely?" he hissed. "Pervert." He backed off as the rifle swung to point at him. "_Je_sus, all right, don't goddamn _shoot _me. Hey, Coach, are you just going to stand there? Help a brother out!"

Coach snorted derisively and took a step back. "I ain't gonna argue with an armed woman. What you got into is all your fault."

Rochelle smiled sweetly. "Go on, Ellis. You don't want him trying to burn you again, right?" Her voice was like poisoned honey.

The young mechanic looked desperately from Nick, glowering with his hands up, to Rochelle, smiling behind the barrel of her gun. He took a step towards the conman.

"Good choice," purred their tormentor.

"I don't gotta, like, strip search him or nothin', right?" Ellis asked nervously. Rochelle shook her head.

"I'm not _that_ cruel."

"Girl, do you know what you're doing?" Coach whispered to her.

"I'm stopping their stupid little first-grade feud once and for all," she quietly replied. "Also, it's funny to watch. It's like they're afraid of each other's cooties."

"Ro, remind me never to get on your bad side."

Nick was fuming with such intensity that it was a wonder he didn't summon a whole platoon of specials. Ellis timidly peeked in the pockets of the white jacket, apologizing awkwardly, reluctant to touch the older man any more than he had to. He kept looking back Rochelle, eyes pleading, as if to ask "can I be done now?" She heartlessly gestured for him to continue.

"Man, oh man, this don't feel right," Ellis moaned, delicately checking the pockets of Nick's pants. "Why'd you gotta take those smokes, Nick? Why you gotta be so much trouble?" Nick ignored him, instead boring holes in Rochelle's eyes with his vicious glare.

"Uh-uh, honey," Rochelle cackled when Ellis finished and backed off in relief. He froze and gave her his deer-in-the-headlights look again. "That jacket's got pockets inside, too."

"Come on now, you've had your fun. We gotta get movin'," prompted Coach. Rochelle raised a hand to stop him.

"Oh, no. They're not done squirming for me yet. Think real hard about how you two've been acting," she ordered, "and _empty those_ _pockets_."  
>Nick, who had moved to pick his weapon back up, flared angrily.<p>

"Fucking insane," he growled. "You get off watching us play gay chicken? Fine!" He grabbed Ellis' outstretched hand, pulled the shocked young man close, and kissed him. Hard. Ellis emitted a muffled yelp but could not pull away from the conman's iron embrace. Coach and Rochelle stared as Nick dominated his prisoner's lips, heedless of the struggles, until finally he released the younger man and looked up with a cold, satisfied expression. Ellis gasped for air and windmilled backwards, face crimson, sputtering in outrage.

"What the _fuck_, what the hell, you just- why the _hell_ did you just-"

Rochelle smirked.

"Nice try." She extended a hand and looked Nick square in the eye. His expression flickered, then broke into exasperated defeat. With a grimace he reached into his jacket and drew out two small green boxes.

"You're good. Too good," he muttered, turning away.

Rochelle scolded Nick six ways to Sunday and destroyed the contraband. The conman at least had the decency to look ashamed. Ellis begged Coach for water so he could rinse out his mouth.

"Please, Coach, it's _gross_, it's like lickin' an ashtray, didn't you _see?_ He _kissed_ me! It's... _Eugh_!"

Coach shook his head slowly. "No can do. I feel you, son, but this water's for drinkin' only." He rubbed his forehead in exasperation as the unfortunate young man spat repeatedly instead. "Can we _please_ get movin' now?"

A few relatively quiet miles later, Rochelle's wicked satisfaction faded. Nick was looking mischievous again.

"Hey, Ellis."

"Don't you talk to me."

"Why not?"

"I said, don't talk to me. I had enough a' yer mouth for one day."

"Aw, but I thought you liked it. I _did_ feel you grab my ass..."

"I done _WHAT_!"

"Once and for all, huh?" muttered Coach. Rochelle closed her eyes in despair.

"Your turn, then," she groaned. "Go break 'em up."

"Well, now _I'm_ havin' fun. Watch."

They stood in the road and looked on as Nick, laughing, nimbly dodged furious swings of Ellis' baseball bat.

It _was_ pretty funny.


End file.
